


The Misadventures of a Wayward Hunter

by Mystical_Firefly_Avenger



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Ashton should get some backup, Blood, Crowbars, Genderfluid Character, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Going to Hell, Moderate Violence, Pre-pubescent humans are strange, Wrestling with vampires is bad for your health, catching the bus may be bad for your health, mild crack, rainbow spray paint is a viable weapon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-13 23:57:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10524621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mystical_Firefly_Avenger/pseuds/Mystical_Firefly_Avenger
Summary: Ashton Hack: made of painful mistakes, skittles, and ended up running around NYC attempting to improve the quality of the world as the side-effect of being raised from hell one-to-many times (or was it just her psyco brain?).





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SmallRedRobin13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmallRedRobin13/gifts).



> This is my first Supernatural fic, it might stay a one-shot or become a series. If y'all have any suggestions please put them in the comments.  
> Written using ilsy.com.  
> Well here goes nothing...

Well I would certainly hope that the universe doesn't hold this against me. That would be a fucking bitch to deal with, especially since now I'm already suffering the consequences of my actions. What actions? That is the question I get most often and the answer to that is that I, Ashton Hack, am a terminator. Ha ha, just kidding. Got you didn't I. No? Well I'm kinda maybe the offspring of bad decisions and dark magic full of crazy demon summoning shit that you really don't want to know.

But anyway, back to the cut. I. Am. A. Murderer. I chase down monsters (whether they be the demonic sort or just grossly mean human beans) and put them down. So yeah, I think I was unconscious? Like, the author has no idea as to what this is about (fyi she's rambling and really hoping that I’ll shut up now) yeah, unconscious was my best guess because I couldn’t see or feel anything. Either that or I was dead. Dead would have been worse because Lucifer already took my favourite pair of gloves in exchange for being raised from perdition. They were so damn fluffy and they were also knitted by my first friend (he's unfortunately dead now).

I rolled over and kicked the covers of the bed. Looks like I wasn’t dead. No more glove stealing for Lucifer. I scanned my surrounding and realised that _oh fuck I’m sleeping in a bloody mess_ (literally, sticky red stuff everywhere). "MY GOD WHO THE SHITTING HELL ATTACKED ME THIS TIME!" I screamed at the ceiling, expectantly waiting for an answer which was unfortunately non-forthcoming.

Well I couldn't blame whoever was within earshot for not replying, I mean, If you lived in a shifty apartment like the one I was currently ranting in then you would be keeping on the down-low too. I could only guess that whoever dragged me here was an uninformed idiot, who would want to get close to an identity disassociating psychopath that is immune to knock-out drugs? Am I right?

I pushed open the rotting door (the landlord should probably fix that) and entered the hallway only to trip over the splintered corpse. "Whoa, Ashton" I grabbed the wall in an attempt to stay upright but failed utterly and faceplanted. "Ah man I hope this place doesn't have CCTV cams. This would be seriously career undermining if they saw the Hunter Hack flailing around in bodily fluids and cartilage on a Thursday morning”.

 Was it Thursday? I honestly had no Idea, it could be Saturday for all I knew (goddamn my alter ego taking the reins again). "Whelp, these humans aren't gonna be visiting the coffee shop anytime soon." I said climbing unsteadily back to my feet and shuffling down the staircase to the bottom level of the apartment block.

A woman opened her door and turned around, took one look at my blood-covered state and went straight back inside. Yeah, I'm gonna have to wash up before venturing back out into the big wide world of NYC. Thankfully, I found a laundromat after only 5 minutes of walking the streets and managed to avoid any large crowds. Thank god for 9-6 working hours that clear the streets for the average death-bringer.

I managed to get most of the bloodstains out of my clothes, thank god, but my last bag of salt was hopelessly drenched in sticky stuff (of which I really don't want to find out it's true substance). Having made myself presentable I strode down out into the thin sunlight and took a moment to track down the nearest hunting store courtesy of google maps (internet cafes will forever be the best places to hang).

\-----------------------------------------

The guy manning the front counter looked like the definition of a redneck. As in he literally had a nasty stripe of sunburn on his neck that showed from beneath his faded t-shirt, yet, despite his rough looks his fingernails were the cleanest, most polished nails I had ever seen. Like, I've seen the nails of freaking models but this random hunting-store dude had practically sparking fingertips that made me want to ask if he was a vampire Twilight or something.

 "Did you what something or were you in here just to stare?" His husky voice snapped me out of the stupor I had fallen into. "Uh, yeah. How much salt do you have?" "What?" He looked confused "Never mind. I'll just browse." I scoured the worn shelves and managed to find a decent array of fun things to complete my armoury along with an awesome can of spray paint that came out in rainbow streaks (apparently it's used for marking stuff but who cares? It's rainbow).

 I dumped my load on the guy's counter and he surveyed the pile with a raised eyebrow. "You sure you need all of this?"

 "Yup"  
 He looked sceptical "Are you sure a gal like you can carry all of this"

My eyes narrowed "Excuse you! I ain't a girl." I snapped

"You sure look like one." he commented scanning the last item and accepting the wad of cash I passed over.

"Well you can suck my gender-fluid dick and butt outta my life!" I slung the backpack over my shoulder and snatched up my duffle bag of supplies and marched out the door, oblivious to the man's stunned expression. "It's okay," I took a deep breath "It's only 2017, society still has three years for respect to be beaten into the bigots before the new decade."

I managed to calm down and sat down on a park bench to properly sort through my purchases. A shotgun, ammo, a few sacks of salt, a rifle, more ammo, a crowbar, silver wire, rainbow spray paint, and more ammo. I would have to modify the ammo later that night so it would take down supernatural creatures, a job which I was going to procrastinate on because packing that many bullet casings would take a horribly long time. But, ghosts aren't going to shoot themselves so I, Ashton, will have to do it for them.

That it is assuming they don't head over to the Winchester brothers' turf and get vanquished by them and their friend (angel?) Castiel. "I really should get back in contact with those guys." I muttered, packing everything back into their respective duffle-bag or backpack.

Having help taking down the larger groups of supernatural beings (the malicious ones) would be good, maybe I wouldn't get so messed up or killed again if I had backup. I sighed and shouldered my bags, turning in the direction of the bus stop, I had enough cash to get me to upper Manhattan.

\----------------------------------------

There was a school group on the next bus downtown, I had turned to squeeze down the aisle and was dismayed to find that I'd have to do leap-frog to get to the empty seats at the back. "Excuse me, sorry" I muttered wriggling past a pair of wrestling tweeny-boppers with Justin Bieber haircuts (wasn't Justin Bieber long gone? How is that sill in fashion?). I reached an empty row and sunk gratefully into the rough, fraying seat and breathed the stale scent of cigarettes from previous passengers on the rickety transport.

How something so inherently repulsive could smell comforting was a mystery, maybe it had something to do with escaping the energy-charged air-space of the pre-pubescents. I guess it must be the same sort of mystery as the comfort gleaned from the bittersweet knowledge that karma had given up trying to get back at you because every time it sent you to hell for killing, Lucifer rolled his eyes and chucked you back out.

On that thought, I wonder if his name is Lucifer because I never asked and he never said, but the name kinda stuck in my mind enough after reading enough sci-fi and fantasy books. I watched the busy streets slide past outside the window and slowly drifted into daydreaming until there was a scream from one of schoolkids.

"Oh fuck my life" I swore as I lifted my head and spotted the predatory gaze of a vampire focused on the children, one already flailing within its grasp. "Hey!" I shouted, chucking a plastic bottle I had found under the seat at the vamp's head. It bounced off with a cheerful _bonk_ and the vampire's gaze snapped up to focus on me. I scrabbled inside my first bag and pulled out the crowbar while I tried to disentangle myself from the seat.

I shoved down the aisle towards the predator, crowbar in one hand while the other held me upright, it was by no means flattering in the way that an all-out charge would have been but hey, gotta work with the terrain, am I right? The vampire was, thankfully, also hindered by the swaying of the bus, giving me time to swing at it with the crowbar. I may have forgotten that the bus was jolting and turning (what happened to 'work with the terrain', Ashton?) and my swing went embarrassingly wide of the original target and cracked against the vamp's forearm.

It hissed and dropped the kid. "Oh shit" I said, realising I had only aggravated it just as the vamp lunged. I brought the bar up ad caught it under the jaw, sending it reeling before the bus driver decided to jack-knife around the corner and I lost my grip on the seat and flew backwards.

 The Vamp clawed its way past the shrieking school kids and reared up in time to *for the bus to swing around another bend and a bag of school books smashed into its face as a kid’s backpack fell of the overhead racks, it staggered with a hiss that sounded way to similar to a stepped-on rubber ducky.

 I took advantage of the fact and jumped on the vamp, jamming the end of the crowbar into its throat, drawing blood until the bus was hauled around next crazy corner when the vampire flipped over and gained the upper hand. Literally.

"FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!" Some kid started screaming as I grappled with the undead creature on the floor, strangely enough the rest of the kids joined in, cheering on the death match like it was the championship of the interschool soccer competition.

 Somehow we got flung to the back of the bus, my crowbar slipped from my grasp and the kids climbed over the seats to get a better view as the vamp started bashing my head against a seat cushion (where is the logic in that?).

I heard a cry of "Use the force, Luke!" and a second later the can of rainbow paint flew across the bus and hit the vampire in the eye, it barely flinched at the impact but it gave me a chance to snatch up the bottle and spray sticky colours into the vamp's face.

That brought out a shriek, which was ultimately a mistake as it got the neon paint into its mouth as well. It fell back clawing at its face, trying to remove the foul-smelling liquid from its eyes and nose. I dragged myself upright and somehow regained enough balance to kick the vamp towards the front of the bus.

Normally, my kick wouldn't have been strong enough to do much except to knock it back a few steps but at that moment, the panicking bus driver floored the brakes in an attempt to stop for a red light and the rainbow vampire was flung straight past the driver and through the windshield.

Time slowed to a crawl as I watched the creature fly a good 15 feet and skid to a halt in the centre of the intersection before a petrol truck barrelled along from the crossroad and popped the vampire like an overripe melon.

Everyone in the bus was frozen, staring at the blood and guts strewn across the roadway until there was a triumphant shout from behind me.

"YEAH, BABY! LET’S DO THAT AGAIN!" The boy screamed, all of 4 foot 3 inches and fist pumping the air like he’d made a home run. I staggered back to my seat and shoved the blood splattered crowbar and paint into my bags before tapping the 'stop' button, the soft chime seemed strangely hilarious compared to the violent event that occurred a few seconds ago.

I nearly giggled as I exited the bus before remembering that I probably shouldn't broadcast my psychopathy in public. The tacky blood between my fingers reminded me of the more serious side of the attack, if there was one vampire then there was most likely going to be a whole nest.

 I sighed, so much for maybe getting along without backup. Now that these vampires were my new target I was gonna need to contact some other Hunters. “I needed to find the nearest internet cafe to stick up a job offer on LinkedIn" I thought. Or maybe not, after all, I had been meaning to get back in touch with some acquaintances.

 I smiled as I slotted a handful of coins into the payphone and entered the number.  
"Hello?"

"Hey, Winchester Tweedle Dum. It's Ashton."

There was a huff from the other end of the line.  
 "You know the rest of the Hunters think you're dead."

"Yah, huh. Sam. I was stabbed and dead-ed-. Multiple times but I seem to keep coming back."

"Nice to know. Is there any particular reason for calling?"

"I painted a vampire rainbow and chucked him though a NYC bus windshield today. I thought you might want to help me track down his buddies and give them the same treatment."  
There was a low laugh.  
"Ashton Hack, it would be our pleasure to do so."


End file.
